Boy With A Problem
by touched-but-unbroken
Summary: This is a story set in the years before Harry new he was a wizard. This story contains child abuse and content which may not be suitable for younger readers. You have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: JK owns the characters etc. etc., but I own the plot, so if anyone steals it then the police will find you the next morning as a rug on my bedroom floor.**

**A/N: I'm not sure if you would call this story graphic or not, but just to be sure, I'm telling you now that this story contains child abuse and may contain some graphic material. I also think that I'd better say thank you to 'Mrs SoBla Padfoot' for inspiring me to create this fic; I recommend her story 'In The Dark' to all of you who enjoyed this one.**

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Chapter 1 

Hatred. Hatred was all that Harry felt right now. He knew that hatred was a very strong emotion, and that he should only think like that if it was absolutely necessary. But tonight, Harry felt that no one deserved his hatred better than his Uncle Vernon did.

Crouched in his tiny cupboard, Harry tried his best to ignore the pain throbbing through his legs, his arms, his chest. His head was pounding with thoughts of fury and revenge. He felt himself getting more and more worked up. The exposed light bulb hanging limply above Harry's head flickered and went out.

For a moment, curiosity over took Harry's anger, and he calmed down enough to think properly. Strange things often happened when Harry got angry. Insignificant things, but he like to think that these things and his mood were somehow related. Harry lay back onto his cramped bed and slipped into his favourite daydream. He imagined that his parents were not dead, and they came round and rescued him from the Dursley's. He imagined that he started a new school. There were some people who liked him, some that didn't, but for once Harry has friends. Without warning, Harry slipped into a comfortable sleep, a cautious smile spreading slowly across his face.

* * *

When he woke up, he felt anxious and angry. It took him a moment to remember what had put him in this strange mood. Then it hit him. Vernon. Harry sat up, blood pounding in his ears. He recalled the events of the night before.

* * *

_Harry screamed. Vernon laughed and hit him again on the arm, harder this time. Harry's face contorted with silent pain and he struggled to free himself for his uncle's iron grip. No such luck. His uncle held him fast around the ankle, bruising him badly. Harry brushed his sweaty, raven-black hair out of his eyes, only to see Vernon drawing his fist back for another blow. The next hit came on his chest, and he felt his uncle digging his nails sharply into his skin, drawing blood. Harry was now taking in ragged breaths, and his vision had gone cloudy. His head made painful contact with the ground and he blacked out._

* * *

A tear trickled down Harry's face, pausing at the bridge of his nose, then carrying on down his left cheek. It hit the bed sheets with a tiny thud, and then another, and another. He curled up and bit his lip, desperately trying to stop the steady flow of tears that were now streaming down his face.

Harry understood his mood well; this always happened after one of his Uncle Vernon's beatings. First he would feel pain, then anger, then something would happen that would make him feel curious, then sometimes he'd fall asleep, then he'd feel more anger, and then he'd feel misery and sadness.

Harry sniffed and wiped his face dry with a dirty towel. He didn't know what time it was, but decided that he should get some more sleep. No sooner had he laid his head on the pillow, however, when he heard a sharp tap-tapping on his cupboard door.

* * *

Harry stiffened, his alert senses straining to hear the noise again. For what seemed like hours, but could have only been minutes, he sat there, cold and damp, listening, just listening. Eventually he heard the sound again.

_Tap-tap, tappity-tap._

It went. Again:

_Tap-tap, tappity-tap._

The light bulb burst into light, blinding Harry and leaving the image of the room imprinted in his eyes. All around him, it seemed that ghosts were rising up and circling him. But Harry was above such childish games. He was not scared. He was not that kind of boy.

He slowly opened the cupboard, and slipped out of his 'bed'. Every step he took made the floorboards squeak accusingly. Every corner he looked into stared at him with accusing eyes. Harry stopped suddenly. He had heard the noise again. Except . . . it was different. It was more like

_Tut-tut, tuttity-tut_

this time.

_Tut-tut, tuttity-tut, why are out of your cupboard?_

_Tut-tut, tuttity-tut, why are you even out of _bed

_Tut-tut, tuttity-tut, what are you doing, sneaking around the house?_

Each step, a new accusing squeak. Each corner, a new accusing face. Each 'tut', a new, accusing, question.

He came into the kitchen, and saw a feast lain out on the table.

_Tut-tut, tuttity-tut, _the food invited.

Harry knew that he should resist, he knew he would get caught, and get beaten again and again and again. But Harry was past caring. He had had nothing to eat but a few carrot sticks a day for only God knows how long. His stomach moaned in anticipation. Sighing, and knowing that he would be done for later, he sat down and began to eat.

No sooner had he begun, however, than he heard the noise again, much louder this time. It was coming from right behind him. He turned around, and gasped.

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**A/N: I am SO sorry that this is such a short chapter, but I promise I will make up for it. I scrapped the 'You Spin Me Round' challenge; I haven't even started it. But I've been busy at work with 'Must Be Love . . .' and am currently working on the ninth chapter. And I can't do any more tonight, coz I have to go to my brother's school concert. What fun. Any way, I realise I have kinda neglected all my other stories, so next on my priority list is 'Harry Potter and the Chime of the Warrior', then 'When Love Comes Close', then this one, and then finally I'll be posting chapter nine of 'Must Be Love'. I toyed with the idea of discontinuing all but one of my fanfictions for a while, so as to concentrate and finish one, but that went out the window, coz I write different types of stories when I'm in different types of moods. So yeah, that's all I have to say now. Apart from: I have to go now coz ma din din is ready! Ps please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Author Notes: sorry I haven't updated anything in a while. I was determined to update this story next, and I wrote two pages then just froze and didn't know what else to say. So yeah here it is, and after I've got this up I'll update the eagerly awaited chapter eleven of 'Must Be Love…', so enjoy, and gimme gimme gimme more reviews! This is a bit of a short chapter, but seeing as I how I haven't updated for ages, I thought I'd better throw it up anyway._

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Boy With A Problem: Chapter Two: Or So He Thought 

I was his Uncle Vernon. And he was holding two knives. One in his left hand and one in his right. He clicked them together, an evil grin imprinted on his face.

Tap-tap-tappity-tap

Tut-tut-tuttity-tut

That was the noise he had heard earlier. It was the noise of two knives clicking together. And it sent shivers down Harry's spine. For they weren't any old two knives. They were two knives in Vernon's hands. And from the look on his face, they weren't for cutting birthday cake.

Vernon lunged forward, and, with surprising accuracy considering his size, slit both of Harry's wrists. Harry turned pale; the blood was trickling down his palms, it was warm on his finger tips, and bloody hell was it painful.

"Ha!" Vernon laughed manically. "Caught you! Caught you … red handed! In more ways than one." He grinned slyly and chuckled at his little joke. He walked up to Harry until he was looking down his nose at him. Harry watched his uncle stare at him, spit on his face, and scratched at his cheeks with his blunt fingernails until they bled. His face was clammy with fear, wet with tears, warm with blood, and sticky with spit. Harry flung his arms out wildly, panicking, but his uncle just stepped smoothly away, laughing at his weakness. Then he felt it, that terribly familiar blackness washing over him… and then he was on the floor, in a mangled heap, breathing, but not at all fine.

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He awoke in the morning, back in his cupboard. He grimaced, and felt the dry blood crackle on his face. His every limb ached from all the times he had been beaten over the years. He could not recall a day that he had _not _been beaten at least once, even if it was only a slap. He could not even recall the last time he had a friend. A smile. A hope. He had dreams, all right, dreams of a better life, but he had no hope that it would ever happen. No hope at all. Not even a glimmer of hope. 

A few bars of light filtered through the vent and around the door, and Harry could hear a bang as Dudley slammed his door open. Minutes later, Dudley's heavy footsteps sounded on the top steps, and then he was on the steps above Harry's cupboard, jumping up and down. The noise was horrendous, and dust fell from the ceiling, getting into Harry's eyes, blinding them and making them stream. He shut them tightly, and buried his head in his pillow.

* * *

He did not wish to get up and face the day. He knew he would have to face more rebuke from his uncle. And most certainly his aunt and cousin, too. But, no doubt, the consequences would be worse if he _didn't _get up, and with that in mind, he made a hasty journey to the bathroom. 

Just as he was rubbing his face on a towel, a shriek came up from down the hallway.

"Boy! Get yourself here at once! Breakfast and then chores!"

Harry groaned, then consented and left the bathroom for the kitchen. He presented his Aunt Petunia with his hands, as she always wanted to check their cleanliness. Her eyebrows rose as she saw the red marks, and then she snarled.

"What did you do _this _time, rat?" she said. If looks could kill, Harry would have been limp on the cold floor faster than you can say 'dead'. Mind you, the way the Dursleys treated him, he should already be dead.

"I'll tell you what he did this time!" Vernon butted in, and Petunia and Dudley listened to his exaggerations as he told the story of the previous night. When he had finished, there were three people in the room who wanted Harry's blood. They all started towards him, and he ran away like a coward. But then, anger overtook him. He was sick of this. He was sick of them. He was sick of his life. It was time for some changes. Without knowing what he was doing, Harry grabbed up the nearest thing to him- an umbrella- and brandished it in front of himself, knowing his attempt at a weapon was fruitless. Or so he thought.

Golden light surged out of the end of the umbrella, and it flew in all directions. It smashed the dishwasher to smithereens, broke an ancient vase clean in two, flipped the table (and all the food on it) upside down, and levitated Dudley in the air, before it faded, the dust around the dishwasher cleared to reveal a big hole in the wall, the flowers rolled limply to the floor, the squashed food squirted from under the table to splat on the walls, and Dudley came crashing down, landed on his bottom, and ran out into the back yard, wailing.

Petunia had gone very pale, and looked at her husband, who had gone very quiet. His temple was bulging.

"This is the last straw!" he shouted, and began to make his way towards Harry, although his wife stopped him.

"No, Vernon. You know what his parents were like. We don't know what he could do. He's turned out a… he's turned out a… one of _them_!" she wailed, burying her head into her Vernon's shoulder, who turned to Harry. It took him all his strength to speak calmly and not lash out, but eventually, Vernon said

"Go back to your cupboard, boy."

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_Author Notes: hope you like, I should get a chapter of something else up soon, so watch out for that. Also, if you want to check out some of my other works, go to fictionpress and search for my name, scatter-brain. I haven't got any stories up there yet, only a couple of poems, but I should have a story up sometime in the near future. So please review, even if you thought this chapter was crappy! Ty xxx_


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